The Bygone Years: Steel Gray Soul
by Grand Phoenix
Summary: Reality is the cold, hard truth. Reality is everything people do not want it to turn out to be. Reality is the wake-up call, and without it one can never earn the strength to carry on. Fifth in The Bygone Years Saga.
1. Canto I: Fall

**Disclaimer:** All characters and locations belong to their respective owners, ©2004-2008.

_A/N: Welcome back, fellow readers, to Round Three of the Pre-MLR Project! The fanfic you're about to read is the most serious of the saga and, if you see it that way, quite a shocker. I won't say why, but I'll leave that up to you to find the answer to this peculiar riddle in the first half of SGS. (I would like to quickly mention the time-skips in this story were inspired by a Sonic the Hedgehog fanfic called "ÆdS", so kudos to __**cornwallace** the author for coming up with such a brilliant piece, lest I forget.)_

_You may have noticed the new title I've given to Pre-MLR. I concluded that the Project will be split into two major arcs: the first is titled "The Bygone Years" and the second being called "Magical Lyrical RANdom!". (Yes, I have given to you the answer you've been dying to hear! It has been revealed! As for why it's called that, you'll know when you read the later installments . . . starting with "Pieces of a Mosaic".) On my profile page you'll find a brief list of the stories I plan to post under that name in the near future. Ten are shown, one of which needs further conceptualizing before it can be added onto the page._

_Also, there's a poll concerning which multi-chaptered story I should write alongside one of my epics outside this fandom. Two of the choices on there are "Eternal Phoenix" and "Inner Feelings From the Unfathomable Deep", which are MGLN fanfics. Not I'm not ASKING you to vote for them, but it would be nice to see what the readers would to see being worked on._

_"Steel Gray Soul" is the FIFTH piece in the TBY timeline, set four years before StrikerS, three years before the first MLR fanfic._

_So please enjoy. Constructive criticism and feedback are welcomed and appreciated._

* * *

**The Bygone Years:  
Steel Gray Soul**

* * *

_"Esse quam videri bonus maledat.  
(He preferred to be good, rather than to seem so)."_  
-- Sallust

* * *

**Canto I  
FALL**

* * *

"I never meant for this to happen," she says, hands reaching up to hide the sorrow on her face. She reminds herself not to show weakness, any weakness. _Do not be weak, do not seem weak._ For six years that has been her motto.

Her superior frowns. "It wasn't your fault." Like she knows it could have been avoided, could have been different, more worse than expected. "There was nothing you could do."

"It shouldn't have been this way." Everything is cold, dark, distant. She feels trapped, caged in her prison of good will and virtue. The waves are breaking ever harder, the sun shining ever hotter. (The ghosts are breathing down her neck, whispering testaments torn and fragmented-- _You could have saved us! Why didn't you save us?_-- glass shards cutting at wings carrying more burdens than it should be.)

"We couldn't have known, with or without intelligence," tells the superior. "They were clever. They knew where to hit, where to premeditate. We were sorely outnumbered."

(Blood leaks from wounds too few and far, spilling tears unchecked like sins from a fallen angel. Blood leaks and fades into dust that never was.)

"It should have been me."

* * *

PAUSE.

* * *

There comes a time when life takes a one-eighty and dumps the world's heaviest burdens upon your shoulders. The weight of all the emotions exuding from the very heart of the matters playing at hand becomes too much, and when the needle lands on the stack it comes tumbling down in a climatic fashion. The time in which one grows to who one wishes to be has its extenuating circumstances.

Children believe they are prepared for anything. They like to think they can leap over every hurdle the gods like to throw at them every step of the way on the road to adulthood.

That is not so. That cannot be. It is not reality.

Reality is the cold, hard truth. Reality is everything people do not want it to turn out to be. Reality is harsh. Reality is cruel. Reality is damning.

Reality is the wake-up call, and without it one can never earn the strength to carry on.

* * *

REWIND.

* * *

The day is June fifteen.

Fifteen-year-old Nanoha Takamachi, Tenth Regional Officer and combat instructor-in-training, is called to the S.S. _Asura_'s Central Command. Having returned from an emergency mission on Mid-Childa, she confronts the voice of authority.

Chrono Harlaown, Captain of _Asura_ and Supreme Commander of the Time-Space Administration Bureau, has received information of dire urgency. According to reports, there was a planet on the edge of a binary star system reeling in the iron grip of absolute despotism. Riots were on an uncontrollable level and spreading across the globe. In the center of the violence a group of refugees escaped the horrors of slave trading and fled to the confines of an enclosed mountain range, where they managed to relay an S.O.S.

The mission sounds simple: go to the planet and retrieve the refugees via corvette. But this mission requires more than just Nanoha. Chrono sees to it that he send Moon and Sun Squads (Riot Forces Three and Four, to be precise) under her command. It comes as a surprise that he would even consider giving the mantle to a wet-behind-the-ears rookie, but Chrono says he trusts her. It would do her well to corporate real-time strategy in warfare.

The troop is to launch at nineteen-hundred; one hour, so it gives Nanoha enough time to acquaint the Riot Forces and prepare. Harlaown directs her to East Wing, Corridor C, Room C67, where the Squads are located. Officer Takamachi nods and takes her leave.

Several minutes later finds the Earthling in a spacious locker room. Twenty men and women prep themselves for battle, adjusting barrier jackets, armor, and devices to ease unsettled nerves. Nanoha introduces herself to each and every soldier and listens to them speak of themselves, their accomplishments, their duties, their devotion to the officer presented to them. It doesn't surprise her that they come to her before their calling. What does come as a surprise is that she's quite a popular subject among the ranks, a hero who fights for good and triumphs over evil in song and yarn.

It isn't a surprise when Fate, Hayate, the Wolkenritter and various other people she's known are mentioned, but it is a surprise nonetheless when they describe her as 'one who brings all and none to a final bind'. She's afraid to know what they mean by that, but she likes to think they're saying something praise-worthy, like she's more than just the infamous White Devil sending chills down their spines.

(Though she doesn't know it, years from now, when this whole mess blows over and is nothing but a faded memory in snow and static and darkness, the White Devil will mean more outside of combat.)

As the minutes lessen, the tension thickens. The people are getting antsy. They're fidgeting in their seats on the benches and double, triple, and quadruple-checking their equipment. Nanoha watches them from a corner in the room, and it takes a great amount of will to not do the same thing. But her hand reaches up to finger the ruby red orb that is Raging Heart, slowly and unconsciously--

"If they see you like that, they won't follow you."

She blinks, startled out of her reverie. Nanoha looks and finds the source of the voice: a young man with viridian eyes, a handsome, angular face and cropped black hair. He seems to be the head Enforcer for Sun Squad, as he is decked in a yellow cape and green armor bearing a sun-shaped sigil on his vanguards.

His lips bear the tiniest hints of a smirk. "Name's Tsuzakun Horiyama," introduces the soldier. "I've heard many a great tale about you, Officer Takamachi."

"Ah, is that so?" says Nanoha. She forces a smile in an effort to ward off wayward troubles. There's a certain tone in his voice that she's heard on numerous occasions, a kind of subtlety one likes to exude without appearing harmful.

Tsuzakun nods. "Yes, indeed. These people look up to you. They want to be someone who can change the world with the power of courage and kindness. They want to perform heroic acts and have their names in the history books. They want to be remembered as someone who will never let others down."

(Somewhere in the trenches of her psyche, Nanoha feels those last words engrave themselves with a scalding iron tip. It will still burn even when she becomes wrapped in that dreadful, dreadful cloak of nihilism.)

But Nanoha sets aside that irritable itch for another day (today). "I've learned much over the years. It takes a lot of strength to keep moving forward. No matter how tough or bleak the situation may be, one must look at it as a trial to overcome and make it to the next challenge."

"That's true," agrees Tsuzakun, "but the meaning of strength is the thought that counts."

"What do you mean?"

"One needs to uphold an image for people to understand, to know that they can be just like that person and gain the confidence to be as strong as they can be. If it means that they must sacrifice something of utmost value to carry on and grow, then so be it. If it means to prove themselves they can perform their duties to the fullest, then let it be. But you must never show fear, be it known or unknown. You must never quaver in the midst of danger. If you fear, they will doubt. And if you fear, they will never grow."

His gaze meets hers, and suddenly Nanoha feels small, very small, beneath those piercing green orbs; they that seem all-knowing, otherworldly, a newborn star in the cosmos. It is under this stare she thinks on those words she said years ago, a time when the Book of Darkness was no more and the road to the future lay open and unpaved. To protect the weak and become the strongest she can be to defend the people precious to her . . . .

_If you fear, they will doubt. And if you fear, they will never grow._

(In the days to come, they will ring so true.)

* * *

FAST-FORWARD.

* * *

"Don't say that!" she rebukes. The facets of a gem that is her face reflect the emotions from the overhead lights. In anger, for her brow creases; in confidence, for her eyes narrow; in fear, for the red muscle in her chest drums erratically; and in loss, for her hopes have fallen to the pits of her stomach. "You and I both know there was nothing we could do!"

_(Come shadows, let me be your friend. Drown me in your fathomless depths and never let go.)_

"It wasn't your fault!"

_(Don't let go don't let go don't let go don't let go don't let go . . . .)_

A period of disestablishment, an etude to chaos. She wishes to remain here forever, lost in a dreamless eternity.

If only . . . .

* * *

SKIP.

* * *

"So that's what happened, huh?" She scratches the back of her neck, looking out at clusters of heavendust and cosmological schema. They're the lights of God's megalopolis, the souls of innocents departed from the mortal realm, and their purity shines hope upon desolation. "And she hasn't come out of it since?"

Fate gives a somber nod. Those blood-red orbs are holding on for dear life, clinging to the edges of a crystalline pool ready to overflow. Tough exterior aside, it hurts her to see such a lovely face succumb to sensitive wounds. "Yes. We tried everything, and I can't stand to see her like this. I'm her best friend and she refuses to talk to _me_. What else are we supposed to do?"

She puts her chin in her hands and begins to think. And think. And think. And think.

Her fingers snap to a conclusion. "Got it." She gets off the bed and walks to the door, stretching as she goes. Fate watches her pick up Graf Eisen with both hands.

"What are you doing?" she asks, a startled lilt on her lips.

She glances over her shoulder and arches an eyebrow. "What's it look like? I'm going to help Nanoha."

* * *

REWIND.

* * *

They come out of nowhere. They strike with the manic power of submachine guns and do not relent.

Four soldiers and one refugee have already fallen to their wrath. Blood cakes the hard, jagged earth in pools and limbs fly aimlessly across the sky. In the chaos that is hell, Nanoha has to wonder how the terrorists could have known they were coming. There's nowhere to hide, nowhere to take cover. The nearest outpost town had to be miles over the horizon.

How the hell did they find them?

There's no time to wonder. Don't think, just act.

So Nanoha tightens her grip on Raging Heart, knuckles turning white. She swings the device forward, commands the Riot Forces to attack, and opens fire.

* * *

SKIP.

* * *

"--I could fade away."

She blinks. Confusion paints a grey-green mosaic in those sapphire orbs, a one-way mirror into the murky land of right and wrong, sin and virtue. "What?" A pathetic spell uttered by the greatest of minds. This is her meaning of the universe.

"I want to vanish off the face of the earth. I want to drift among the stars and never come down."

A tiny, tiny smile. A crack in the soul.

Yes.

This is it.

* * *

SKIP.

* * *

Their screams are horrible. Loud, long, undeserving. Their blood is on her hands, in her eyes, in her body . . . .

". . . . . . . . noha!"

She clutches her head, covers her ears, shuts herself from the world. She can't hear them, she won't hear them, she doesn't hear them. She refuses to hear them!

But she does. She hears them and they don't stop. They ring, terrible knells of doom. They ring and ring and ring and ring.

"NANOHA!"

A hand claps her shoulder. Nanoha whirls around and stares into Tsuzakun's gore-splattered countenance. (One of his eyes is gone, a black hole on the verge of collapse.)

Over the din of battle he yells, "We're being overrun! Give the order!"

She does, but before she can she sees a female Enforcer of Moon Squad get mowed down by a sporadic spray of bullets right behind Tsuzakun. The Enforcer, who looks to be no older than Nanoha, crumples to the ground like a broken marionette. Her mouth hangs open in a rictus of pain and surprise, her brown irises glazing over, and her amber-colored locks pulling the curtains on an opera cut short of its expectations.

Andgodohgodshelookslikehershelooksjustlikefatemakeitstopicanttakeitanymoregodhelpmemakethemstopmakethemmake  
themSTOP!

"NANOHA!!"

* * *

SKIP.

* * *

"Nanoha . . . I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all that's happened. I'm sorry it turned out like this. I'm sorry for all aches and pains you suffered on that day. If fate were to have it I would take it all away, but--"

"No. You can't. You can't take away the pain. You can't cure this itch. You can't take back what's already done."

"Nanoha--"

"I failed you, Hayate." she grinds out woodenly. "I failed Fate, I failed Chrono, I failed the Wolkenritter. I failed everyone and failed in my duty as a mage!

"Most of all, I failed myself."

* * *

SKIP. SKIP. SKIP.

* * *

"Go, Nanoha!" cries Tsuzakun as he runs his device, a knife named Vulcan, through and out the chest of an enemy. "Get to the rendezvous point!"

"No! I won't leave you!" Stab him in the gut and let off Divine Shooter. Watch him disintegrate. "I won't let you die--!"

"I already am! I don't have much time left!" Turn around and slash across the man's forehead, just above his eyes. Watch him scream and fall. "Don't worry about me! Just go!"

He's tired. He's weak. He's dying. In his voice, in his stance, in his steps.

He'll (won't) make it. He'll (won't) live. He will (won't)!

Rain starts to fall with steady pellets.

"Hang in there, Tsuzakun!" Rain smacks the ground in scattered rivulets. "Just hang on! I'll save you!"

"It's too late for that." Backhand the guy and puncture his carotid artery. Watch him choke and stumble in his own lifestain. "As Head Enforcer of Sun Squad Riot Force Three I, Tsuzakun Horiyama, shall protect and serve Tenth Regional Officer Nanoha Takamachi with all my power, even if it means my very life!"

"Tsuzakun--"

"Live, Nanoha!" He grunts as a crossbow bolt lodges in his left arm. Hunched over, vomiting blood, wilting but still keeping his feet firmly rooted, he tackles the man and eviscerates him in a quick, clean swipe. He rears up and places a crushed hand over her rattling heart. "LIVE ON! AND NEVER GIVE UP!"

And the Breaker Point, Tsuzakun Horiyama's trademark reflecting barrier, knocks Nanoha out of the crowd. The terrorists that are within the range of its circumference are instantly ash and smoke and steam.

The last words she hears from him as she makes a break for the TSAB corvette are forever etched in her soul.

"NEVER TURN BACK!"

* * *

SKIP. SKIP. SKIP. SKIP. SKIP.

* * *

She rises from her seat, doesn't bother to look Hayate in the eye. Pale blue light splashes across features somber and pale, a lonely phantom chained by the plagues of excommunicated morality. Russet locks curtain the tragedy unfolding in those chaotic oceans.

"I'm done talking." And she walks away, leaving Hayate with a very sour and certainly unpleasant taste in her throat.

She starts to move after her. "Wait! Nanoha--"

"Don't call me that!" The voice is sharp, bitter, and the edge of her sword is gleaning white and terrible. Yagami stops, and that alone causes her to recall older memories (fonder memories) untouched by icy, anguished robes. Those days which they did graze fingers along the smooth, silk fabrics unrequited (for never can they do so, the numbness unbearably less mitigated) are soft and subtle, a queer rustling in leaves of faded green.

Hayate wishes for those days to return.

Nanoha wishes for time and shadows to let her be.

They are too engrossed to notice that each have gone to their own worlds.

* * *

STOP.

* * *

"I hear waves crashing,  
Rough monikers in the stars.  
Where now do I go?"  
-- Takamachi Nanoha

"Tears reign in the dark,  
Lord over me in despair.  
Why do you hurt so?"  
-- Fate T. Harlaown

"Sun sets in the west,  
Nightfall looms in murky grey.  
What heralds the day?"  
-- Yagami Hayate

* * *

_Thus begins the Metamorphosis; a time of change, a time of awakening. Open your eyes, listless child, and you shall understand._


	2. Canto II: Catharsis

**Disclaimer:** All characters and locations belong to their respective owners, ©2004-2008.

_A/N: We're nearing the end, folks. Only one chapter left to finish (because yeah, I decided to split it again; that and I wanted to make this fanfic easy to read, story-line aside). All I can say is if you don't like canon characters going completely OOC, (as you'll soon find out) then please turn back._

_Otherwise, please enjoy and R&R. I would love to read your reactions!_

_(PS. This chapter goes out to you, __**markesellus**__! Hope you like it!)_

* * *

_"Abandon all hope, ye who enter."_  
-- Dante Alghieri, "The Divine Comedy - Inferno Canto III"

* * *

**Canto II**

**CATHARSIS**

* * *

PLAY.

* * *

Cold grey steel. There's so much steel. The walls, the floor, the ceiling; they're always cold to the touch. Beautiful they may be, but there is something missing. It isn't a physical absence, per se. The ship with its sturdy construction and refined planning didn't put her off in the least bit. Scents of lavender tinge the atmosphere in ghostly will-o'-the-wisps. _Asura_'s motley crew of colorful technicians and brave soldiers wander the halls, their footsteps tapping rhythmically to time's metronomic pulse.

She realizes, to her discontent, what this missing jigsaw puzzle is.

The steel is no longer warm.

She huffs. This is the reason why she's here. This is the purpose the Gods have proposed and she wholeheartedly accept it. If someone asked her to pick between a red pill and a blue pill, no matter how ignorant or obvious the choices are, she would refuse to do so. _I forgo my own path_, she would say.

Well then, says the stranger. Do what you must.

_And I will._ Ironically, she finds she is _the_ person who has to restore order. _She_ will bring their smiles back. _She_ will smite the desolate fog diluting their good cheer. _She_ will deliver hope and drag its ass out of the suffocating fire. (_She_ is the one to bring about the Metamorphosis, but this she shall never know. It will be as if destiny took its own course.)

Rain, rain, go away. Don't come back ever again.

Vita of the Wolkenritter huffs, shifting Graf Eisen to a more comfortable position over one shoulder. _'Time to perform my sacred duty.'_ Holy, holy, holy!

She walks down the corridor alight in the glow of a distant sun. There is no need to rush, but there is no need to further delay the inevitable. To her right is the dormitory, each room categorized alphabetically. The war cruiser could only accommodate so many men and women, and with the numbers growing plans had to be made to resolve the problem of maximum capacity. The floor she strides is the second of five floors, the first being the basement in the hull (containing Arc-en-Ciel, the infamous weapon of mass destruction) and the fifth a warehouse for vehicular transportation. The remaining floors are the resting quarters, twenty-five rooms for each occupant(s). The higher you go the more luxurious and private they are made.

Central Command happens to be at the end of the T-junction. People greet her along the way and she returns with a lazy, dismissive wave of a hand. (Because they notice the large war hammer bobbing in her grasp, glinting menacingly under the strobe lights. And right away they keep their distance, the hairs on their necks standing ramrod straight and perspiration rolling off their bodies in cascades. Vita ignores this and moves on.)

The general rhythm of conversation and working metal grows louder with each step, a massive hive looming on the horizon. The numbers wind down to their double-digit prisons, letters and symbols proudly displayed in large, bold, black print. Every door the Velkan Knight passes is closed shut, possibly password-encrypted if a person's low sense of paranoia is necessary. They, too, are steel, but these doors that hold memories and secrets and trysts bear the presence of warmth and harmony that is undoubtedly lacking.

The door before her, however, is an exception.

She eyes the plaque card labeled **TA-04**. In its tracks there is a tiny crevasse. Whispers emanate from within. Pressing herself against the wall, she slides forward and places a blue iris into the portal.

It's dark in there, solid and pitch black, but from the window behind her a sliver of sunlight pours in. A lone figure stands in the midst of the glow, a painting of noir fiction and postmodern angst. Her hands are on the surface of a cabinet, tightening into fists. There's a mirror above the cabinet, a realm of liquid silver. But she doesn't look at it. She avoids the pathetic image that she is, hides the overflowing well of emotion as they spill from canyons in needle-thin droplets. (Because it's said that God resides in wood; you knock on wood and He gives you good luck. It's also believed if you cry just enough He'll forgive you of any wrongdoings you may have done.

(. . . . It's been six days.)

Choked sobs are escaping from her throat. Her forehead touches the glass. Her shoulders shake, and she cries. And cries. And cries. And cries.

It sickens her. It sickens Vita to her very core. Her blood roars and fire kindles in her heart, but at the same time it only strengthens her resolve. A growl rises in her throat, but the Velkan Knight pushes it down with all her might. There's nothing more to see, her mind decides. She leaves in a huff and doesn't care whether Nanoha hears her or not. (Because she's too busy ripping herself apart and sewing it back together again. So she can destroy the foundation of purpose and drown with a whimper and not a bang.)

She enters Central Command without fanfare save for the soft rush of wind that opens the door. The techs are at their stations reporting whatever shows on their monitors and Chrono son of Lindy directs his orders from his place atop the Bridge. Nodding knowingly, Vita heads on up there and hails him with a salute. The Captain is surprised to see her make such a rare appearance, but nonetheless he gives her his full attention (fighting the urge to gawk at the ominous Graf Eisen).

"What can I do for you?" asks he.

"A couple things, actually," says she. "I need to know the exact time Nanoha goes to the gym."

"The gym?" Chrono parrots. He arches a blue-black eyebrow and taps a finger to his chin. "Well, uh, it's four o' clock Galactic Time Standard. She usually goes around this time, but what with the Fallout--" At this he gives a sad frown. Cosmic irises look on in metaphysical dimensions, but is then swept aside by his casual demeanor. "--she goes a lot later."

"How late?"

"Somewhere 'round five or six."

"Okay. And has she come out yet?"

"No. Not since her encounter with Fate, which was three days ago."

Now it is Vita's turn to frown, but it comes out as a grimace. She finds it disgusting (truly, terribly disgusting) that Nanoha can even think to hurt someone (anyone, everyone, it didn't matter. Nanoha was nothing like that. Not until the Fallout. The Fallout made her tailor her own personal hell), but that isn't the point. To hurt the one who cared for her, looked for her, smiled for her and loved her (loved her _indeed_, because Vita and Chrono and the Wolkenritter and _Asura_'s techs and soldiers know it and they know that not even the most cold-hearted Gods can condemn pure, unadulterated love. But Fate is just starting to realize this, starting to realize who she wants to spend the rest of her life with, who she wants to protect with all her being and who she will sacrifice herself for the sake of the greater good) is a crime that can't be left unattended.

Vita won't let it happen (and she swears on this because _she_ is the one who has to restore order. _She_ will bring their smiles back. _She_ will smite the desolate fog diluting their good cheer. _She_ will deliver hope and drag its ass out of the suffocating fire). It is her duty.

"I see," she says after a brief, awkward pause. "So it's somewhere in between."

"Yes," the Captain affirms, "but why do you want to know?"

Now this may seem like it needs a little bit of convincing, but the Velkan Knight has this all planned out. Five minutes of her walk gave her enough incentive to go with it and not look back with nary any regrets. The others may find it harsh, brutal and against protocol, but she doesn't care what they think of it. You want to help someone, you need to do it the hard way. Pampered comforts don't always work.

So she tells him, gives him every detail and reason to believe that this idea of hers will work. She explains about locks and surveillance and Graf Eisen and tells him if they try to interfere with her they might as well eat shit because if they want Nanoha back they're going to her get back and they'll thank her for doing the right thing no matter how wrong it is to them. And Chrono's protests go on deaf ears for a half hour before he gives up and allows her to do what she pleases.

Vita leaves the stunned crew with a smirk on her face.

The gym is on the other side of the T-junction. Peoples of various ranks are training themselves for a chance at promotions; sparring one another at the punching bags, undergoing barrier summoning endurance tests, meditating on Linker Core device connections, running laps on the track. She surveys the place warily, ignoring the various, perplexed glances until she finds an empty space by the bleachers.

Sitting down she pulls from her uniform pocket a white cloth and a small container of wax. She applies the wax to the cloth and polishes Graf Eisen's head and the length of its handle.

The waiting game begins.

* * *

REWIND.

* * *

The static is unbearable. She can barely hear what they're saying (because parting is such sweet sorrow, and yet the lingering aftertaste of their departure is a little too bittersweet for her to keep down), but this is what she remembers.

There is Nanoha. Nanoha is lurking the halls. She is a mess. Her uniform is wrinkled, untucked, unbuttoned. Her long, silky, terracotta mane is tousled and flat. Her steps are slow and unsure. She does not speak, does not acknowledge anyone. Eyes of the most beautiful shade of blue are dead, abysmal black and distant. She walks, and she does not stop until she is in the confines of her room, safe from the questionable minds and pitiful glances sent her way.

And she cries. And cries. And cries.

And she can't take it anymore. She can't bear to see her suffer like this. So she hurries after her and when she gets there she grabs hold of her arm and stops from her going any further.

Nanoha does not look at her.

"Nanoha," she says, her voice cracking. "Nanoha. Talk to me. Let me help you."

Static. She hears her answer along the lines of _There's nothing you can do to help. Leave me alone._

"I don't want you to," she recalls straining. "I want to be there for you."

_There's no need to._

"But I want to. I want to be the shoulder for you to cry on. I want to hold you and comfort you."

_You can't take my pain away._ (It's only until now that she remembers this.)

"Just give me a chance. Let me make things right."

And that's when the static clears and everything she hears and sees and feels is in perfect, perfect clarity.

"Don't you see!? You can't! You don't know how I feel! You don't know what it likes watching every squad member and refugee get slaughtered right before your very eyes! You've never stared into someone's bloodied face with an eye socket gaping back at you! You've NEVER had BLOOD on your HANDS!"

She's in front of her now, angry and weary. Their faces are mere centimeters from touching and she feels a stirring in her gut, but it is out of fear and not the strange, throbbing sensations she has been having when they are in close proximity. Those fists are balled and that gaze hard as stone. She has never seen such raw emotion before. (And she realizes this face does not suit her. This is not the Nanoha she knows. This is not the Nanoha who went to great lengths saving her from the darkness in those years bygone. This is not the sweet, innocent girl she's come to love.

(And she does not like it.)

"They should have killed me!" roars the White Devil, gesticulating wildly. "They should have killed me instead! Not Tsuzakun or Sun Squad or Moon Squad or any of those refugees! I should be dead!"

"You don't mean that . . . ."

"But I do! I mean every fucking word I said! If I died everyone would still be here, but because of that mission I failed them!"

"That's not true. They protected you, gave up their lives so you could live on and maintain your legacy as a soldier of virtue. They did what they had to do to ensure your safety."

And then, all focus is attuned in high definition.

"They didn't deserve to die! They didn't deserve to be lead by me!" A furious, ugly rictus crosses her beautiful features, and it is then the monster in humanity presents itself in a wicked snarl.

"I don't deserve this position!" She tears the TSAB badge from her vest and flings it to the ground, which clatters loudly on the cold floor. "I don't deserve being a mage!" Raging Heart is unclasped and it, too, joins its brethren (like a heavy teardrop sliding down the surface of a steel gray soul). "I don't deserve any of this!"

(It's starting to fade to black . . . .)

"I don't deserve you!"

(The colors are running and the picture's melting . . . .)

_. . . . Wh-What?_

_I don't deserve your kindness. I don't deserve any of your compassion._

(The voices are distorting . . . .)

_--Why do you wish all this?_

_Don't pity me, Fate. I'm not worth it._

(. . . and exit stage left.)

Now . . . now she's alone. All alone. Everything has lost its warmth. Everything is numb to her touch, pressed flushed against a cotton barrier of static. The walls have spoken their secrets and they wish to keep mum while they watch two hearts gripped by pain and despair spiral to oblivion (dark, dark oblivion where only shadows reside and suffocate their victims with no remorse to blind their narrow-minded ambitions).

The spot on her left is empty and lifeless. She sets a hand on that void sarcophagus with fingers spread forth while the other clutches the abandoned emblem to Bardiche's golden core (and it's cold cold cold and it'll keep getting colder until there's only a husk and nothing else).

Her heart won't stop aching.

* * *

FAST-FORWARD.

* * *

The doors to the gym open with a sigh. Vita averts her gaze from Graf Eisen to locate the source of the sound.

Lo and behold, here comes Nanoha Takamachi. And what a surprise! she looks better than the fucking tornado she came out of three days ago. Her clothing, that loose-fitting attire she wears to increase fluidity in her movement, is actually in one piece!

Vita can't help but smile inwardly, but as soon the last of the clerks leave and the doors softly slam shut the facade is immediately dropped.

No turning back. No hold's barge.

It's showtime.

"Hello, Nantoka," greets the redhead Velkan Knight, aware of the mispronunciation of her name.

The Tenth Regional Officer perks up and gives her a double take. A second later she puts on an amiable mask and (forces) a smile unto those (traitorous) lips. "Oh. Hello, Vita. What brings you here?"

"I should be asking you that," The dark edge in her tone barely escapes, "but don't mind me. How's life treating you?"

She looks away for a moment, distant and ashamed. Once, twice, does she blink, and she resists the urge to hold and rub at her arm (as if it's a bug zapper and she is the moth who flies near it; lands on its lighted surface and endures the unbecoming torture that follows). "It's okay. . . . I've been thinking a lot, is all."

"Ah," says the Knight, nodding her head understandably. She gestures to the center of the gymnasium. "Why don't you come on over and tell me what's on your mind? I could be of some help."

Nanoha cringes. "I don't think you can."

"Why is that?"

She fidgets. "Well . . . it's personal. I mean . . . I'm sure you've heard about it, but . . . ."

"But what, Nantoka?"

A shuffling of feet, hands clenching. ". . . But it's hard. Hard to say . . . how I really feel about . . . about . . ."

"The Fallout?"

She flinches, folding in herself, hiding from the world (a cruel, cruel world). What an unsightly display it is! seeing the stalwart White Devil cower like a lost child weeping in the dark, dark oblivion!

What a perfect, pathetic fool.

". . . Y-Yes," answers Nanoha forcefully. Her brow creases and her lips twist in a scowl, "but it's none of your business."

"You're right," Vita states diplomatically. "It's not my business. But does it stop me from asking why? No."

"You weren't there."

"Are you guilty because you're alive? Are you guilty because the people assigned to you are no longer among the living? Are you devastated because you could not save them, because you could not join them in death's cold embrace?"

A low growl. "Stay out of it."

"Or is it that . . . you are too ashamed to admit you are weak?"

"SHUT UP!" snaps the white mage, lips curling over hot pink gums. "Just shut up! You don't have any say in how I should or should not perform in the line of duty!"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Keep it to yourself. I don't need your sympathy."

"I wasn't going to."

"Then what do you want?"

Vita cants her head to the side and bats her eyelashes. "What do I want? I'll tell you what I want." She rises from the bleachers and grabs Graf Eisen. Four silver balls materialize in mid-air, and the red and black Knight Armor wraps around her small frame. "I want you to wake the hell up!"

The mallet taps the first ball and, in the stunned silence, follows up with these words:

"(SWALLOW FLIER!)"

Nanoha has only a second to blink before the resulting explosion knocks her off her feet. She recovers in a backward somersault, but the speed of the second and third orbs forces her to back-flip away from the strikes. The last one is dodged in a hasty maneuver and leaves a remarkable dent in the wall behind her.

The face Nanoha wears is uglier and meaner than when she disowned Fate. If anyone, _any one person_, were to witness the madness rolling from her pores in waves and the murderous (sweet murder!) intent in that glare, their fear would root them to the ground. Their awe would transcend Freud's id, ego, and super-ego beyond the stars and the mere whisper of the White Devil's name would make them hollow.

But not Vita. Never Vita. Vita doesn't give a damn what happens to Nanoha.

"This is a breach of protocol!" shouts the enraged girl.

"Your point?" considers the other.

"You're attacking an officer of the Ground Defense Force in violation of the Administration Bureau's code of conduct!"

"So?"

"I'll have you reported for this!"

Vita grunts and responds with a familiar, universal hand gesture. "Like I care."

The look Vita receives would make hell freeze and thaw to water in a split second.

Nanoha reaches a hand up to her neck. "Let's go, Raging Heart! Now! You, me and--"

--her hand clutches air.

"Looking for _this?_"

Nanoha chances a glance at the Velkan Knight, but what she sees makes her blood run cold and her mouth dry to a barren wasteland.

Dangling in between the child's fingers is Raging Heart, dully gleaning crimson in a slow, long strobe light effect. There seems to be a smirk grazing her lips but Nanoha isn't so sure there is one (because the mind is a god of tricksters, and it revels in the loss and confusion that taste like sugared gum drops when its victims stumble in the labyrinth of their psyche).

She's too shocked to form a coherent sentence, but the question on her mind and tongue is: "How . . . ?"

"She came to see me after your little tête-à-tête," Vita says flatly. "She couldn't stand holding onto it any longer, so she gave it to me. Told me to make sure Nanoha got this back when all was well and as soon as possible. I kept it in my pocket for three days, three days of passing your room and hearing forgotten, unheard lamentations. They got worse and I got tired. They died quietly and I burned loudly.

"Then, on the third day, she told me everything. Told me how you were acting, how you were resisting, how you were falling. You weren't your good old self. You weren't the golden girl sung in fabricated songs and spuns yarn the Riot Forces would sing on their bar nights. No. You weren't a Devil. You weren't a mage. You weren't a regional officer, a protector or any of that crap."

Her gaze hardens like volcanic rock. Her scowl deepens like the most predatorial beast. Her voice is ice, ice cold and deadly fierce. "But you know what I think? You know what I think of Nanoha Takamachi when her back's turned and she's out of earshot? She's a coward! A failure! This cheap imposter standing before me is not the Nanoha Takamachi I know! She's not the girl who pulled Fate from rock bottom. She's not the girl who saved Mistress Hayate from the Book of Darkness. She's none of that! And I'm tired of this emo-angsting crock of bullshit!"

She pockets Raging Heart and cocks Graf Eisen in front of her. The war hammer ejects three cartridges and seals shut with a hiss.

Nanoha gasps. Her pupils shrink.

Spears of energy hover 'round their master, crackling madly.

_("NANOHA!!")_

"I believe this is the part where you run like a little bitch."

_("NEVER TURN BACK!")_

"(DEADLY PUNISHMENT!)"

And Nanoha runs, hell snapping at her heels (hoping to reach the TSAB corvette that was never there).

The room is blast-proof (thank the Heavens!), but the smoke and residue and heat waves make it extremely difficult for her to make a beeline straight for the doors. Her steps are fleeting, haphazard and _GODDAMN VITA'S GOTTEN FASTER_ but she's almost there. Almost there. Almost there. Almost there. Just a little bit further.

Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go. Go--

Now those doors were operated to open and close via motion-sensor technology, but it goes to show a slice of the staunch security the _Asura_ is capable of when Nanoha crashes face-first into them. As panic blossoms she flips open a hidden panel on the side of the entrance (for it is required for the crew of all types of cruisers to memorize its layout and schematics) and keys in the digital combination on the tiny computer.

When it replies as 'ACCESS DENIED. COMMAND OVERRUN.' Nanoha starts to break out in a cold sweat.

"You're trapped," shouts Vita. "Got nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. You're on my stage now, kid. We're doin' it Vita's way."

That last sentence alone makes Nanoha's extremities wither inside.

"Let me out!" she cries, visibly trembling. "Please stop this!"

"It's too late for that! You fucked up and now you're paying the price!"

"I don't want to die, Vita! I want to live!"

"Oh, so now you want to live? Is that how cowards fight? Pleading and begging to be spared for actions they couldn't control?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry for hurting everyone! I'm sorry for blaming myself! I'm sorry for everything that's happened this past week!"

"You had your chance and you blew it! It's time for you to open your eyes and see the world for what it is!"

As if on cue the silver orb in the wall behind Nanoha detonates, tossing her flat to the floor. Slightly smoking she struggles to stand, but as soon she's on her knees ropes of energy ensnare her wrists, ankles, torso and neck, binding her to a crimson-colored barrier. Eyes wide and fearful she watches Vita approach her; slow, casual, menacing.

"It's really not a new technique, per se," says the Velkan Knight as she gives her black gloves a couple firm tugs. "More like a combination made from an improvisation. I suggested an idea to Central Command the other day. Said we should form an Interrogation and Torture Unit with the best minds. They, or rather Chrono, couldn't stomach the thought of brutal procedure. He overruled it on the spot, but that's okay. He's outranked by Mid-Childa's High Council, anyway. I'll just propose it to them next time we dock off.

"But this technique, on the other hand, is the basis of my idea. It's the answer to a solution that needs to be effective, needs to make people talk and get the point straight across. However, in order for this to work I need a volunteer. I need someone who's got balls of steel. I need a person as tough as steel and impenetrable as a wall of rock." She stops in front of Nanoha. "Except you. _You_ are my whipping toy. _You_ are my test subject. _You_ will go through _Das_ _Licht am Ende de Tunnels_, the Light at the End of Tunnel."

She leans Graf Eisen against the barrier, which ripples softly upon contact, and smacks a fist to her palm. "What do you have to say for yourself, you little shit?"

There's a thick, greasy blanket in the air and it stifles their breath to quick pants. This is the time for Nanoha to choose one of two paths she must tread, two of the greatest evils in the known cosmos. The highway or the scenic route. Suffer for your sins or beg for mercy. Red pill or blue pill. Live and let learn or live and let die.

Vita doesn't have to even count how long it takes before Nanoha makes that decision.

"I don't deserve this!"

It's the last straw, the final countdown to zero, the ending of an era, the death of time and shadows, the rise of molten lava and sea foam, the eye of the tiger that smolders in the dead of night.

And Vita snaps with a bang and not a whimper.

"You goddamned pussy, stop being fucking SELFISH!"

Her fist, empowered by Velkan magic, crashes into Nanoha's cheek.

"STOP BEING A RECLUSE!"

A second punch strikes the other cheek.

"STOP BEING SUCH A GODDAMNED LOSER AND GROW UP!"

_Bam! Bam! Bam!_ Nanoha's lip splits open and blood inches from one corner.

"It's YOUR fault they're worrying! It's YOUR fault they can't reach you! It's YOUR fault for pushing away the people who love you and care for you!"

_Bam! Bam! Bam! _A nasty purple bruise starts to swell above her left eye.

"THEY tried to help you! THEY tried to heal you! THEY tried to assure you there's a place beyond this cruel world! THEY tried to tell you they're somewhere better off in Heaven!"

_Bam! Bam! Bam!_ Her head snaps back and hits the barrier with a dull _bang!_

"But you didn't listen! You didn't bother hearing what they had to say! You just went to the darkest corner in your room and bawled your fucking eyes out OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN WHEN IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT THOSE BRAVE PEOPLE DIED FOR YOU!"

A painful, anguished cry escapes Nanoha.

"They gave you a chance to live! They gave you a chance to carry on! They gave you a chance to further your career and make a name for yourself! Especially that man! THAT MAN swore to protect you with every fiber of his being! THAT MAN risked failing the mission to save you! THAT MAN was a HERO, and you DARE wish to throw it all away? You selfish, SELFISH GIRL! How dare you!"

She stops for a moment, catching her breath. Seconds are lost in eternity and time fades into obscurity.

Nanoha does not dare look up at the devil.

"You are so selfish," hisses the red and black-clad mage. "You are so thoughtless. I hate you. I hate you for causing us grief. I hate you for ignoring us. I hate you for your close-mindedness." Inhale . . . exhale. "But you know what I hate the most? You know what make my blood boil and shakes me to my core? You had the gall to mistreat the most beautiful gem in the galaxy. You had the gall to break the heart of the most delicate rose in the cosmos. You had the gall to rip and tear and forsake your duties and sense of self in front of the kindest, gentlest, loveliest girl I'd ever seen this side of Mid-Childa and back."

Nanoha blinks dumbly. Her lips purse together and a name passes them, but it goes unheeded.

Vita wipes the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Her eyes shine and reflect a glassy inner world of infinite oceans and clear, blue horizons (but it's the light, Nanoha thinks. It's the lights from the gym and Vita -- that angry, angry little girl computer program of the Tome of the Night Sky -- can't be that upset to . . . to . . . .)

"You hurt her," she sighs. "You hurt your best friend. You hurt your most precious person." A glare dents Vita's youthful face. "You hurt Fate and made her CRY!"

Nanoha gasps. Her eyes widen--

_("Nanoha. Talk to me. Let me help you.")_

_("I want to be there for you.")_

_("I want to be the shoulder for you to cry on. I want to hold you and comfort you.")_

_("Just give me a chance. Let me make things right.")_

--and her head snaps back again by a vicious kick to the chin.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO MUCH! YOU CAUSED HER SO MUCH PAIN! YOU CAUSED HER SO MUCH GRIEF! I HATE YOU, NANOHA! I HATE YOU!"

The beating goes on for a long time and Nanoha is tossed and thrown about in a world of apocalyptic turmoil. Her vision blurs and coalesce and she can't see through them because the colors are running and the picture's melting and the voices are distorting. Her mind is being torn apart at the very seams and the end is drawing nigh on horses and flaming swords and sounding trumpets.

Finally it ends. The fists and magic and swearing cease and the barrier and snares vanish. The aftermath shoves Nanoha to the gym floor and leaves her a sniveling, sniffling, sobbing excuse of a mess.

"Go! Get out of here!" screams Vita. "Get out of my sight! I don't want to see you ever again! Go back to your room and cry yourself to sleep! Get out of here!"

Nanoha doesn't give it a second thought. She scrambles to her feet and dashes out the unlocked doors and down the hall until her footsteps become mere coughs of philosophy and nothing more than ashes on the breeze.

And Vita grabs her hat and throws it to the ground. She falls into a cross-legged position and buries her face in her hands.

And she, too, cries. And cries. And cries.


	3. Canto III: Redemption

**Disclaimer:** All characters and locations belong to their respective owners, ©2004-2008.

_A/N: And we've reached the end. I hope everyone's enjoyed this as much as I did. I had a great time writing "Steel Gray Soul" and that is something I won't forget._

_As for what I'll write next, what would like to read? "Chronopoly" or "Groove Buster"? "Clockwork SIGMA" or "Mach MESSER: Titanium Jazz" or the untilted Eleventh One-Shot? Or would you like to read a stand-alone one-shot outside the MLR Project continuum?_

_On a second note I've three votes on my poll for those who wish to read "Eternal Phoenix", but please let me know! I'm open to suggestions!_

_So please enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcomed and reviews are appreciated._

* * *

_"Well, now I'll never turn back, I'll never turn back  
I'll never turn that way  
No matter how life tries to face me  
I'll turn the other way."_  
"Never Turn Back" -- Crush 40

* * *

**CANTO III  
REDEMPTION**

* * *

Chrono hits the back of the seat, his shoulders sagging, his face pale and haggard. The Bridge bunnies gathered around the holographic monitor watch wide-eyed and slack-jawed. The Wolkenritter look on, robbed of breath and speech. Hayate swallows thickly and tries to calm erratic nerves. The computers live solely for the purpose of silence.

One thing is for sure: they are glad Fate never bore witness to this.

(But she does find out eventually. They never learn of the great lengths she went to discover the forbidden knowledge. How she did cannot be said, but Fate and Fate alone knows and that is that.)

* * *

For the next two days the _Asura_ does not see Nanoha stalk its steel gray halls, and the crew wonders what sort of repercussions Vita's actions would sow.

What they do know is that when they pass **TA-04** they don't hear the wracked sobs or ragged breaths they have grown familiar with.

When pressed to the door, they hear only one thing.

Nothing.

* * *

_And Destiny unravels its golden threads . . . ._

* * *

On the third day a most unexpected surprise happens.

Fate stands outside the Infinite Library, red wine irises staring past star clusters and nebulae and suns and planets, into the unknown. Her reflection joins her, probing the deep, dark recesses of an untouched, newly born aspect compatible to the human soul: love, attraction and the completeness of one. It's with these thoughts of curiosity and perplexity that it brings to the surface a sort of new age rationalism she finds herself settling in quite comfortably.

Yet she wonders. She wonders where Nanoha is. She wonders how Nanoha's doing and wonders if she's feeling any better. She hasn't seen her in six days (not counting those following the Fallout) and the first tell-tale signs of worry are beginning to show.

_("Forget her," grumbles Vita as she stumbles drunkenly past Fate. "Just forget about her. Move on. You don't deserve her.")_

But Fate can't do that. She can't abandon Nanoha now, not after all they've been through, be it thick or thin. Seven years is too long a time to simply cut the ties that have held their bond and walk away.

No.

She won't allow it. She won't forget about her. Nanoha's saved her hide more times than she can count on her fingers, toes and Bardiche's many vertices and supplementary angles. Nanoha's been by her side as much as stars appear in the sky and the sun and moon conquer the horizon.

Nanoha means a lot to her. She's her friend, her sister, her partner, her savior, her . . .

Her . . . .

There it is again. That irregular heart beat when she thinks of _that thought_; that rush of heat when _it_ first comes to mind; that dream-like, serendipitous calm when _it_ lingers for hours on end.

Is this what attraction feels like? Is that what the emotion is called? Fate has never seen or thought of Nanoha in that light, but the idea persists. As much as she wants it to, she can't for the life of her make it go away.

_("Why would you want to do that?" asks an incredulous Lindy from over the counter. "If you really want to find out where your feelings towards Nanoha lays, then you should take the chance to come to terms with them. Who knows, you might get lucky . . .")_

But how would she approach them? Or rather, how would she approach Nanoha on this matter of conflict?

The door on her left hisses open and closes with a soft click. She does not mind the intrusion of noise (sound does not carry in space, and that Fate is thankful for the eternal peace that is few and far in nature), thinking it to be a tech passing by.

The person does not move, and this Fate finds rather peculiar. Her eyes, however, catch sight of a certain ruby gem. She whirls around--

". . . Nanoha!"

"Fate." says the Tenth Regional Officer. It is an even, measured tone; a relaxing lute compared to the raw and stressed vocals from way back when (their infamous encounter, the spiral to oblivion, the Fallout within the Fallout). She is well-dressed, young and toned curves filling into the iron-pressed uniform and the TSAB emblem gleaning proudly upon her breast. Her facial features seem more brighter, more earthly, and those tides of azure that are her eyes stand out more greatly than a rose in full bloom surrounded by pure white snow sparkling in a cloudless sunset.

And it takes Fate's breath away.

_'By the Gods. . . . She's beautiful.'_

(Her heart won't stop pounding, but she wishes -- deep, deep down where only her inner psyche can reach -- for this moment to last forever more, withstanding the decaying rust of time immemorial.)

They stare at one another, unmoving, unblinking. The world around them vanishes to a limbo where no sound, no voice and no glance from outside can penetrate the wholeness that is nestled in the Void Beyond Time and In Between, for they alone exist without fear and they alone can break the silence should the need arise to do so. But they do not incite the act, as they prefer to stay inside the boundaries of their souls and dwell among a much grander universe solely reserved for them.

Fate does not want leave. She does not want to step away from the panorama presented before her. What matters now, in all that exists and would exist in space and time and timelessness, is the angel standing in front of her.

"Nanoha."

(It brings back memories, of years bygone, of a day when she first called out that name.)

"Fate."

(It is still in perfect clarity, she reminds herself. She still remembers the feeling of warmth pressed against her body, recently thawed from inky tendrils of darkness and free of adamantine walls.

(It is those memories that make her more complete, more larger than life, than any newborn sun in the galaxy.)

Her gaze softens, warm and endearing.

And for the second time in their lives history is repeated when Fate's strong arms catch a regretful Nanoha, who buries her tearful face in the crook of her cream-colored neck. No words are exchanged, no motion made to disturb the lulling peace. TSAB's Ace of Aces pours every ounce of her heart out to the Enforcer, asking for forgiveness of her thoughtless actions.

Fate already knows the answer. She lays her head on Nanoha's shoulder and whispers in her ear: "I always will."

Nanoha cries all the more harder and grips her one true companion all the more tighter. Fate holds her closer and doesn't let go.

It is one of the three greatest gifts the Ace of Aces ever receives.

* * *

The next day, when the sun is just cresting the Mid-Childan horizon, the gymnasium is greeted with a second visitor.

Vita frowns at Nanoha's arrival, her eyes holding no emotion. Nanoha fixates on that observant gaze, unfazed by the apparent disapproval that mars the child's brow. The whirling ceiling fans and humming lights do not deter their cause.

The Velkan Knight turns away, her focus shifting to strapping on her elbow pads. "I thought I told you to stay out of my sight."

Nanoha nods. "Yeah. You did."

"So why are you here?"

"I came to tell you something."

"Let me guess: You don't deserve it?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." She waits for Vita to answer. When she puts on the knee pads and doesn't offer one, she continues. "I thought about what you said, and you're right. I deserved it. I'm thankful you kicked the shit out of me. You made me realize that some things in life are far beyond my control, that the way it happens won't always turn out how people want it to be. If it weren't for you, I would never have learned to accept that.

"I have to live on," Nanoha pauses, taking a moment to reflect Tsuzakun Horiyama, her comrade and savior, his final words. "Live on . . . and never give up. Never turn back to look upon past grievances, because what's done is done." She smiles, fondly and sadly. "It's what he, and those brave soldiers, would have wanted."

By now Vita's decked in protective gear, and she listens raptly to the older female's soliloquy. They stare down again, their expressions unreadable.

A full minute goes by before Vita responds with a snort. "So what're ya gonna do? Get wishy-washy on me? Hmph, I don't think so."

Nanoha laughs. "Far from it. Actually, I'm here to propose to you a challenge."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"To see who can kick more ass." At this the Ace unzips the jumpsuit she's wearing and strips it off, revealing loose attire and black padded equipment on elbows, knees and shoulders. She smirks. "I missed beating the lolita out of you, and I've been meaning to break these babies in for quite some time. So whatdya say? You game?"

Vita dully studies the fighting stance her partner's taking up. "Bajiquan, huh? You must really like it. Whatever." She adapts a similar stance. "I'll have you rolling through Compton before you realize your check's bounced off my curb."

"Baguazhang," Nanoha notes amusingly. "Yeah, we'll see about that. Now put your dukes up, shorty. I'm growing old standing here."

"Well, come on then!" growls Vita, a shark-like grin stretching ear to ear. "Hit me! Give it your best shot!"

Nanoha cracks her knuckles and taps her fists. She charges at her opponent, and when she's an arm's length away they strike and have no intention of holding back.

* * *

_Another story has reached its end, but woven threads are now starting to be spun. The Wheel of Time turns and the Metamorphosis takes it course._

_Follow your heart, Nanoha Takamachi. We, too, shall always watch over you._


End file.
